当她离开他的时候,仇恨开始在他的心中滋生。 他恨她的眼睛在战斗面前发出的光芒,因为这双眼睛从来没有因为他而发出如此的光芒。
But he began to hate it when she left him, hate the way her eyes shone before a battle, because they weren't shining for him.
“我恨他。”她抽噎着说。
决不会的;恨早就消了。 如果说她当真一度讨厌过他,她也早就为当初这种心情感到惭愧。
No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him that could be so called.
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